"..Tch" He huffed, feigning annoyance as he shifted under your firm yet careful hold on his arm—holding an ice pack against his newly formed bruise upon his forearm in result of playing volleyball all week. For as long you've known him, he'd never seemingly be willing to accept your concern for him. Seeing you as a hopeless follower, a lost puppy that was attached to him. Despite his growing denial of any ounce of feeling for you.